Abyssal Silence
by ZekkietheOutcast
Summary: Atlantis has risen as a Country, and unfortunately all the other countries want a piece, or an alliance with this submersed Power. OC/Russia There will be Blood, Gore, Psycho Horror, War and a bit of Romance.


:: Okay this is my first, and I'm very much writing this to deal with Writer's Block. This is outside my usual genres so be patient. I will try my best to stick in-character, so please alert me if I break code. There WILL be other countries in this.

I am using Google Translate so bear with me, and correct me if needed.

Reviews are much loved! ::

* * *

She'd crawled out of the sea. That's what was said. Someone like her just crawled out of the sea, and laid claim unto the coastlines of South Eastern America, as well as the Caribbean isles.

They hadn't believed her, not at first. The American embassy had taken her in, and humored her, waited for her to slip up, or otherwise give up new information.

She didn't. And soon, it became all too clear that she was a representative of a new, or previously unheard of country.

Was this country Atlantis? They felt foolish even considering the notion.

That was a land of fairy tale, a fantasy, and nothing more...but where...where could she possibly have come from?

These questions and worries had wracked the globe, and been a topic of heated debate during the World Conferences.

For now, she was being held in America, as a diplomat, and partial prisoner.

He considered this, watching her move about the embassy. As of yet there was no need to placeh her under high security. Her room in the embassy was guarded only at night, as she'd been docile, and followed their orders to remain on site.

Made things easy for him.

He had his orders, before any other countries thought of it, before anyone started fighting over alliances, over who kept her where, who spent time with who, and whether or not she needed subjugation.

Yes...he'd seen it all before. Over and over and over, possible friends turned into enemies by the words of others. Well it wasn't going to happen this time.

He could see much more than the others gave him credit for.

And they'd ordered him to take her in, to be euphemistic.

He had a small squad of hired muscle to do it, no one too obvious, just a group of tourists enjoying their stay in Florida.

They, too, were positioned around the perimeter, discretely observing, as they had been for the past few days.

She didn't leave the embassy, but she was prone to walking the area, enjoying the sunlight and the crisp fall air. She even, on occasion, flopped down in the grass and took a nap during the afternoon, with an American guard patiently waiting by her side.

Soon, they would move in, and take her in, to a safer place, where the others wouldn't divvy her up like so many colonies.

They'd abolished the practice long ago, but he knew that's what would happen. It always did.

It always did, no matter how much they denied it.

She would be safe, and maybe he could have a friend of his own. If Only for a little while.

She sat up, suddenly, back ramrod straight, from her nap. Without warning, or even shaking off the sleep, she darted inside the embassy, the guard rushing after her.

"Ли она нам?" (1) The earpiece chirped annoyingly into his ear.

He shook his head and muttered, "Не думаю." (2)

They had but one moment before the bright and sunny day was eclipsed by thunderous clouds. The wind stirred the trees, and undulated along the grass, making waves that moved, faster and faster across the lawn.

The air turned chilly, and the smell of damp pervaded his nostrils. There was one soft rumble in the distance, and just like that the rain fell in one immense deluge. His clothes were soaked instantly, all the way through his coat, perforating through his scarf, and turning the bright and cheery street into a dismal grave.

He shivered, and retreated for today, filing away what he'd seen for later.

"Должны ли мы выбор ее до завтра?" (3)

Again. That annoying crackle of static, and the query of the clueless.

"Завтра. приготовиться." (4)

He ripped the detestable thing out of his ear and walked on.

The sooner this happened, the sooner he'd get to go home, where the weather was much less...bipolar.

They'd been ready to storm the place and take her by force, but it just so happened that the next evening they were given a choice opportunity.

A disturbance nearby drew the guards away, a foreigner in distress, and left the building more or less unguarded for a short time.

He and his men rushed inside and slipped past the receptionist and delegates in the confusion.

Upstairs, three floors, over, five. He didn't know how many nights he'd watched her window, waiting for a glimpse of her shadow, or for the light to go out.

Neither of which happened.

Perhaps this new delegate didn't like darkness? Interesting.

He paused outside the door, and listened.

He heard the chirping of birds, and the far-off shouts of the guards.

He tried the doorknob, and it opened easily.

This was all rather too easy.

It made him pensive.

Birdsong continued to filter about the room, which was simple and plain.

She was facing the open window, a pad of paper braced against the window frame.

Hummingbirds hovered just outside the window.

She lifted a can of Fanta and drained it, plopping the can back down on the sill.

He felt rather sorry that the first experience she'd had of outside food was American slop, but that would soon change.

He stayed back while his soldiers circled her from behind, drawing ever closer.

He examined the room, and saw nothing of hers, no bag, not clothes, nothing. It looked as if the clothes she was wearing were American-made.

She owned nothing, was no one, and belonged nowhere.

How poetic.

One soldier messed up, and that was all it took.

His foot scuffed the tiled floor a bit too hard, and immediately, she leaped to her feet and kicked the chair towards him.

A long bit of metal glinted in her hands, since when had she picked up a bat? and she swung it at the second.

The force cracked his skull open easily.

So she was a country.

The third made a leap for her and got hit in the face with a bat, crumpling just like the other one.

The first man grabbed the bat and attempted to wrench it from her hands, and He had to dodge to the side as she slung the bat, and the soldier across the room.

He darted forward, humans were weak, she wouldn't be able to take him down that easily, and now she was unarmed.

She stared at him, eyes wide, feral, with a face flat and blank.

Her expression didn't change, and so he didn't notice her other arm snake out to the sill.

The next thing that filled his vision was the can of cherry Fanta, and a blast of pain exploded outward from the bridge of his nose.

He wasn't sure whether the crack he heard was from his nose, or the can.

While he reeled backwards, she kicked out the screen and dove, headfirst, out the third-story window.

Blood gushed between his fingers as over the earpiece he heard the confused shouting of those back at base in the hotel, asking him what was going on and what was happening.

He ran to the window and looked down.

She was running.

Towards the sunset, she was running.

He scooped up a baton from one of the fallen soldiers and pursued.

No more games. No more waiting.

An eye for an eye. A nose for a nose.

She wasn't going to arrive in Russia without injuries of her own.

He'd make sure of that.

* * *

With the setting sun, the sky was darkening fast. The air was already gray, the sounds of guards and pursuit were distant, and echoing. He'd chased her for several blocks, and while he wasn't by any means fast, she wasn't too used to running, and it wasn't long before her steps had faltered and she'd begun to trip.

He'd been able to follow her gasping sounds as she'd weaved about the residential area, but now the sound was being smothered by the warm, oppressive Floridian air, and the sound of crickets.

Sound traveled much farther back Home.

"Иван! Они обнаружили нас, скажите, где вы находитесь!" (5)

With an irritated sigh, he tugged off the ear piece and stuffed it into his pocket. They'd been yelling into his ear for far too long now. He needed to hunt in peace.

Ah…there.

His eyes caught the colorful lines and flamboyant structures of a children's park, and he saw the brief flash of movement. In an otherwise deserted park, this was all he needed.

He stalked forward now, long legs stepping heavily as he approached.

She'd been wandering more and more haphazardly, taking wild turns as it had gotten darker. He was reminded, again, of the lights in her room. Whatever reason for them, she wasn't used to the darkness. And he could use that to his advantage.

He paused once on the mulch, and scoured the ground, searching for a sign. She couldn't be far…

His head swiveled, like a predator, searching out prey, and he was rewarded. A splash. Closeby.

He bounded towards the noise, and charged forward once he saw her shoes, abandoned on the path.

He kicked them, sneakers, lent from America no doubt, and spotted a pond, dug off to the side. It was shallow and small, more of a glorified puddle than anything, scummed over with mold and detriment. Not even tadpoles or fish resided within those waters. There was a trail in the water, he saw, leading from the shore to the center of the pond. The water itself was still rippling from some disturbance.

He scanned the other side of the pond. Surely she hadn't…?

That was utterly disgusting. He was somewhat desperate now, circling the small ditch and looking for wet footprints. Ingenious, but disgusting, but there were no traces of her leaving the pond…so it had to be…

Rather puzzled, Ivan sat down on the shore to wait.

* * *

He didn't know how much time passed, only that it was full dark by the time he spotted the bubbles, and that no one, not even he, could hold his breath that long. The sirens rose and fell in the distance, but he supposed they were too far away for search parties to find just yet. Nevertheless, each time he heard a helicopter approaching he ducked back under the cover of trees by the far side of the pond.

He stood as she surfaced, spitting and retching from the peaty smell of all the leaf litter perpetuating the surface of the pond. She was covered in filth, and it took her a second to clear her eyes and spot him, standing on shore, baton still clutched in one hand.

She dove back down so fast he was left blinking, and rather confused. This girl…he didn't even…

With a sigh Ivan took off his boots and rolled up his pants, shrugging off the coat and unwinding the scarf for safekeeping in the grass.

He readied the baton and walked into the water, uttering a grunt of disgust at the feel of peat between his toes. Russia was so much more neat than this state. He waded deeper and sighed.

Near the center, his foot brushed her, and with the speed of a striking viper, he felt an iron grip on his leg.

She jerked his foot sharply and he felt himself slipping in the muck, being pulled off his feet. He fell backwards into the water, the putrid taste of slime and decay filled his nose, his mouth.

He felt a hand on his head, and the sucking, worming muck pressing into his face.

He couldn't breathe.

Space was closing in.

Her tiny, twig-like arms were holding him down.

He couldn't _breathe_.

He thrashed, but her body was much smaller, he couldn't reach her, she was perched on his back, clinging and pushing him ever deeper.

The water was pressing him from all sides, the feeling of being enclosed, constricted, he couldn't even _see._

Panic set in and he rolled over, squashing her into the ground with his back as he broke the surface and gasped for air. He stomped down on her back and grunted as she thrashed under the surface, nails ripping at his skin.

His hair, so close to white, was now stained green and brown. Ivan tore the muck from his eyes and reached under the surface, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her up.

A helicopter swooped by, and, bathed in the spotlight, he saw how…off…her anatomy was. Her arm and legs were long, as well as her neck, though only slightly longer than normal. Her face was wider, but more delicately curved, her eyes, larger, and slanted, markedly almond shaped. Her nose was blunt, but again, nothing _inhuman_, but just off enough to disturb. As her eyes stared into his, yet again, he noted that the pupils were more ovular than circular.

And that was when she bit him.

Twisting her neck in entirely the wrong way, she reached up and grabbed his offending arm, and bit down onto his wrist.

_That's going to get infected._

Her teeth cut through his flesh and the world was entrenched in darkness once again, he saw the helicopter circling around, and caught a glimpse of Cyrillic lettering.

His ride. Hers too.

He raised the baton and slammed it down on her head, and grinned as her grip loosened.

The chopper landed not far away, and Ivan waded out of the pond, dragging the girl behind.

Medics and soldiers alike rushed to him, reaching to take her from him, to check her over, despite the futility of death on one of their kind.

Before he handed her over he held her up, examined her face, and punched her soundly between the eyes. There was a snap, and blood gushed from her nose.

_Even._

As he tossed her to the soldiers he made sure someone retrieved his scarf, and stared at the bite.

Her teeth must have been serrated as well; the cut was clean, and hardly ripped or jagged.

Perhaps they weren't quite as even as he'd thought.

* * *

**(1) - Did she see us?**

**(2) - I don't think so**

**(3) - Are we going to take her tomorrow?**

**(4) - Tomorrow. Get ready.**

**(5) - Ivan! They found us, Tell us where you are!**

**This is the first chapter, and I didn't get very descriptive did I? Oh well, prose shall vary with my mood, and if anything irks you too bad, let me know! I love reviewing as well as being reviewed, but fan-fiction is new to me, so yeah.**

**Till next time!**


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